


Dearest Muse

by LittleNightbird13



Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 13:49:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14570364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleNightbird13/pseuds/LittleNightbird13
Summary: You've been in love with the Grand Admiral for quite a while, but have managed to keep it to yourself, because of all of those damn rules & regs that the Imperial Navy is so fond of. Your secret threatens to come out when a rejected admirer gets his hands on a few sketches you've drawn featuring the object of your affections in some rather steamy situations......





	Dearest Muse

 It hadn't taken you long at all to realize that something wasn't right when you entered your quarters after your latest shift on the bridge. It wasn't anything overt like your belongings being strewn about wildly, indicating that a burglar had come in and totally ransacked the place on a desperate hunt for valuable items. No furniture was upended or otherwise out of place. No, it was more subtle than that. It had first struck you as an eerie feeling that someone had been inside while you were working. Folks might dismiss such things as utter nonsense, but you had always maintained that a person could sense when his or her private domain had played host to an interloper. The energy would be off somehow and that was what had started your hackles rising. You had also discovered that your reading lamp on your desk was on and you knew damn well that it shouldn't have been. You clearly recalled turning it off last night before going to bed, and you sure as hell hadn't turned it on since.  
  
 Ordering the lights to full power, you removed your cap and gloves, dropping them on the small table by the doorway to your quarters. You gripped your comlink in your hand, seriously debating whether or not to call security. Swallowing down the unease gripping you, you decided to have a thorough look around before summoning the _Chimaera_ 's security detail. If nothing had in fact been stolen or damaged, then you reckoned you'd look like a right bloody fool. Best to take inventory and try to calm down.  
  
 You had just been made commander, after all, replacing the reassigned and newly-promoted Karyn Faro. You weren't a foolish kid anymore jumping at shadows.  
  
 A quick stroll through your quarters didn't turn up anything of value having gone missing. That was a relief, at least, but still, you doubted that some little miscreant would break into an officer's quarters just for a look around. No. You had to be missing something. You pursed your lips in thought and made another circuit around what passed for your home. You came to a halt beside your desk. You hadn't registered it before, but your chair wasn't pushed in all the way and two drawers were open a few centimeters.  
  
 And one of those drawers shouldn't have been open at all! That drawer had a lock on it and the key was always on your person as that particular drawer contained some of your artwork. It wasn't a state secret aboard ship that you were an artist, but not everything you created was shared with your friends and crewmates.  
  
 No. The sketches and drawings in that drawer were of a much more....private nature that weren't meant for anyone's eyes but your own. Every one of them depicted the gentleman you had fallen in love with two years ago when you had been handpicked by Captain Pellaeon to join his crew aboard Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship. You had been completely smitten with the enigmatic (and incredibly gorgeous) Chiss the first time you had reported for duty. Knowing you could never, ever pursue a relationship with him, you had dealt with your feelings by channeling all of your affection and, yes, all of your _lust,_ into your art. The Grand Admiral had become your favorite subject, your dearest muse.You didn't like to imagine what would happen if, the Gods forbid, Thrawn were to stumble upon your creations.  
  
 The end result would probably be much worse than simply being tossed out of Imperial service.  
  
 Which was why your hand now flew to your mouth in abject shock and not a little horror, stifling a distressed cry when you realized two things at the exact same time: One, the drawer wasn't merely open, but broken, the locking mechanism damaged beyond repair, clearly a result of rough hands prying it open, and two, said drawer was empty.  
  
 The folder containing your private art pieces was gone.  
  
 Feeling completely overcome, your heart racing and your stomach twisting in knots as you sat down on the floor because you knew your legs wouldn't cooperate if you tried to remain standing, you touched trembling fingers to your comlink. You knew that you should call security, but they would ask what had been stolen, and you felt sick at the mere thought of telling them that, oh, yes, a portfolio containing smutty pictures of our esteemed Grand Admiral was stolen from me, could you please recover it for me and make sure that Thrawn never finds out about this because I'm very attached to my life and I'm too young to die, okay, thanks?  
  
 Hot tears stung at the corners of your eyes as you sat there, wondering what in the Nine Hells to do. Protocol dictated that you inform security and a full investigation be performed. You understood that, and had followed protocol to the letter since you were a first-year cadet. You could probably recite every rule and regulation that existed in the Imperial Navy verbatim.  
  
 What you were required to do, what you logically knew you _ought_ to do, flew out the airlock. Protocol could go hang right now. Protocol wasn't going to do anything but make a very bad situation a hell of a lot worse. As it stood now, you were the only one who knew that your drawings had gone missing. Well, and whoever it was that nicked them from you, of course. If you alerted security, then the culprit would surely get wind of it and maybe launch into whatever it was they had planned.  
  
 That was the big question, wasn't it? Two big questions, really. Who had broken into your quarters and stolen your art? And why had they done so in the first place?  
  
 Closing your eyes and willing yourself to calm down, you took a deep breath and pushed yourself up from the floor, taking a seat on your sofa instead. Feeling a little better, you turned those questions over in your mind. Whoever had done this must have had a motive. This couldn't be a juvenile prank some noncom or 'trooper was playing for the fun of it. This was malicious. Whoever it was, you reasoned, knew you personally and apparently held a grudge against you for some perceived slight.  
  
 Come on, (Y/N), think, you urged yourself. You're a smart woman. You've got this. Who could you possibly have upset to the point that they'd pull something like this on you? You thought back over your interactions over the last few weeks. No one immediately came to mind. Your relationships with your subordinates were friendly and professional. Same with your superiors, as well. No one you worked with would have a single negative thing to say about you.  
  
 All right, then. Who else?  
  
 Your eyes narrowed and you felt your lips quirk in a frown as you thought of interactions in your personal life. Though you were in love with Thrawn heart and soul, you had made a valiant effort to find a more suitable partner, if only to keep yourself from ever doing something incredibly stupid as far as the Chiss was concerned. You knew you ought to put him out of your mind for your own good. You had dated a few men who could be considered appropriate for your station in an attempt to move past your feelings for the Grand Admiral. Nothing serious, just a few casual drinks, that sort of thing. None of them had worked out and it had been about a standard month since your last date. Could one of the men you'd dated have turned bitter because you had stopped seeing him? It certainly happened, though never to you. You ran through your recent dates, wracking your brain for any memory of a man's having been upset or angered by your breaking things off with him.  
  
 You had gone out with a weapons officer who had been utterly sweet and adorable, but you hadn't felt a connection to him. He was the sort of guy a younger you would have hit it off with, but he was a little too immature and devil-may-care for your tastes now. You had broken things off with him after the second date and he had been very understanding when you'd explained why. He was a good man, you were sure of it. He probably didn't have a vengeful bone in his body. He'd make someone a great boyfriend, just not you. The two of you still spoke and could realistically be called friends.  
  
 Then you had asked out Agent Kallus. The handsome ISB agent with those captivating golden eyes had become something of a fixture aboard the _Chimaera_ since its arrival above Lothal, and he had struck you as someone who was rather lonely and in need of companionship. Though he had been slightly startled by your approaching him, he had, albeit hesitantly, said yes and proven to be quite good company. Not only was Kallus attractive, but he was intelligent, respectful, and well-spoken. Alas, however, it wasn't to be with him, either. Perhaps because you were in the same situation, it became obvious to you after a handful of dates that Kallus was a man who's heart lay elsewhere and he was playing much the same game as you, trying to forget about someone out there that he couldn't be with. A fine pair you made, you had mused at the time. The two of you parted amicably and you had silently wished him all the luck in the galaxy in eventually being with the person he truly wanted. You would bet your last credit that he hadn't been the one to pilfer your art. He was too honorable to do something so vile.  
  
 That left one man, then. A TIE pilot, Eriksson, that you had dated exactly once. Though strikingly good-looking, he had an ego the size of one of Lothal's moons. One of the very, very few pilots to skirmish with the Rebel leader Hera Syndulla and live to tell the tale, he had been fascinated on learning that you dabbled in art. He had suggested you draw him standing proudly next to his fighter "to inspire posterity." All looks and no charm, that one. You had turned down his request to see you again and you had thought that was the end of it. You hadn't spoken a word to him in a month, for the stars' sakes!  
  
 Apparently not the end of it. You should have known a man like that didn't like being told no.  
  
 Kriffing wonderful, but at least you had hit upon the probable identity of your art thief.  
  
 The question now was, what did you do about him? You had no way to know whether or not your drawings were still in his possession and if he was biding his time, or whether he had run straight to Thrawn with them, eager to destroy you for having dared reject him.  
  
 You had a sickening feeling he had done the latter.  
  
 But if he had, wouldn't you have heard about it by now? The drawings had to have been stolen during the course of the day. You had worked a twelve-hour shift, so plenty of time for your rat-boy to have nicked the goods and shown them to the Grand Admiral. If he hadn't run to the Grand Admiral yet, could it be that he was holding the drawings over you as some kind of blackmail? Maybe a "Continue seeing me, or Thrawn will find out all about your little artistic activities," kind of thing? A really warped "If I can't have you, then nobody will?" situation?  
  
 Despite the direness of your situation, it amused you that any man aboard would be so foolish as to believe that you could be cowed by something as cowardly as blackmail. No one played games with Commander (F/N, L/N). No one. You had made a mistake dating other men in an attempt to banish Thrawn from your thoughts, you admitted that. You were mature enough to know when you kriffed things up and mature enough to take responsibility for your actions. You were in the mess now and it was up to you to pull yourself out of it.  
  
 Besides, no matter what ultimately befell you, the bastard was going to be up on charges for his crimes. As far as you knew, breaking into someone's quarters and stealing their private property was still a crime in the Imperial Navy. He would get his just reward, you had no doubt. Neither Thrawn nor Captain Pellaeon would let him off with a mere slap on the wrist.  
  
 Right, then. You now had the identity of your thief and exactly three options that you could take, or with one option, _not_ take: first, you could summon security and make a formal report and very likely see the miscreant tossed on his ass in the brig with the gods' knew what happening to you when Thrawn found out what was going on; second, you could bide your time and hope that he kept the artwork to himself and thus this was nothing except an attempt to scare you back into his life; or third, you could go and confront him and try like hell to sort this situation out between the two of you. Eriksson might not be acting like it, but the two of you were adults and officers in the Imperial Fleet. You would make him see reason, and then get your belongings back and make damn sure your paths never crossed again.  
  
 Yes. Option three was probably your best choice. It had to work. It just had to. It didn't bear thinking about otherwise.  
  
 Getting up from your place on the couch, you dashed into your bedroom and changed into civilian attire. You were off-duty until the next day, after all, and if you were remembering correctly, so was Eriksson.Good.He should be either in his quarters, or having a drink with his squadron. Whatever. You'd hunt him down like he was Rebel scum from here to the edge of the known Universe if you had to. Steeling your nerves, you strode out your door, making doubly sure your quarters were secured before striking out on your mission.  
  
 " _You can do this_ ," you thought to yourself, doing your utmost to quell your anxiety, as you made your way through corridor after corridor to the lift station that would carry you to the level where Eriksson resided. " _You are a commander in the Imperial Navy. Someday, you'll have a ship of your very own and all the respect that goes along with it."_ Prigs like Eriksson would be a distant memory.  
  
 Upon reaching the lift, you stood there waiting impatiently. Your blood was still boiling over the situation. You couldn't recall the last time you had been this angry. All you wanted to do was unleash your fury on the kriffing bantha's ass that now threatened to destroy everything you had achieved since your first day at Royal Imperial.  
  
 You were damned if that was going to be allowed to happen.  
  
 So caught up in your anger were you, your nerves so beyond strained, that you barely waited for the lift doors to swoosh open before charging headlong into the small tubular space. You gave a yelp of irritated surprise followed by a venomously snarled "Watch where you're going!" when you found yourself stumbling right into the lift's departing passenger. It took you a fair few seconds to register the white uniform said passenger was wearing.  
  
 And when you did......  
  
 Oh. _Oh, no_. The blood that had been boiling in your veins now transformed into something colder than ice.  
  
 It was Thrawn.  
  
 Strong hands shot out to grip your shoulders, steadying the both of you before you fell over each other onto the very hard deck. "Commander (L/N). Are you all right? You seem like you are in rather a hurry. Is something wrong?" Thrawn asked, his tone full of genuine concern. "I do not believe that I have ever seen you in such a....state."  
  
 Despite the fact that all you really wanted to do was run, you forced yourself to meet your Grand Admiral's crimson gaze while extricating yourself from his grasp, putting some space between the two of you. "Yes, sir. I...I mean, no, sir. I'm, uh, fine. Just fine. I was only, that is to say I'm-" You stopped, disgusted at how breathless and shaky you sounded. Thrawn wasn't an idiot. There was no way he was buying what you were trying to sell. You opened your mouth to continue your protestations so you could bolt, but to your horror, you realized that if you tried to speak again, you'd dissolve in tears.  
  
  _Oh, gods._ Why was this happening? You were about to cry in front of your CO. A ridiculous part of your mind was thankful you weren't in uniform.   
  
 Thrawn regarded you steadily for a moment before replying, not unkindly, "Commander (L/N), you have been a member of my crew for quite some time, and I do believe that this is the first time you have ever lied to me." He stepped away from the lift and toward you. "I ask again: are you all right? Because in my experience, being 'all right' does not include a flushed complexion, a trembling voice, and tears at the corners of one's eyes." His tone softened. "Please, Commander. I am very concerned about you. You are clearly much distressed, and I would have you tell me what is wrong. Perhaps I can offer assistance?"  
  
 That did it. You burst into tears, sobbing into your hands. Gods eternally damn this man for being such a compassionate gentleman when you were disconsolate over stolen art that depicted him in less-than-gentlemanly....situations. What was the matter with you?  
  
 Completely defeated and beyond horrified at yourself, you turned your back on the Chiss, a pathetic attempt to conceal your tears. You weren't in any way prepared for the gentle hands on your shoulders followed by a softly-spoken, "Come, Commander. Let us take this someplace more private. You are most certainly not all right, and I do not feel at all comfortable letting you go off by yourself in such a state. We are going to sit down and you are going to tell me what is going on, yes?" Thrawn squeezed your shoulders, a reassuring gesture. "Please do not compel me to make it an order." The unspoken _I will if I have to._ hung in the air.  
  
 You were caught between a rock and a hard place, it seemed. There was no way Thrawn was letting it slide. You had succeeded in getting the man's attention, though not in the way you had ever hoped you would. There was nothing for it. Heaving an exhausted sigh, forcing yourself to get a grip, you murmured, "Yes, sir." and allowed yourself to be led by the Chiss back down the corridors presumably to his office, too wrung-out to really care what happened next.  
  
 

 To be continued!

  
   
  
 

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for my fandom family over in the Twitter-verse! You know who you are! You guys keep me writing! Thanks for encouraging me & always being around to bounce my latest Plot!Ysalamir off of! Just thanks for being yourselves! I love you, fam!


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